Another Day Another Destiny
by SlytherinRose547
Summary: Even in your last breath, love is never too late...Not when destiny already twined your lives together from the start... From the 2012 Film


**Another day, Another Destiny**

**Prologue: There Was A Time**

_*****November 26, 1824*****_

"Éponine! Azelma!"

A man's hoarse voice broke the silence of the cold Parisian morning. In one of the rooms in a lowly apartment in Paris, a man who is about in his late thirties stormed towards the makeshift bed on the floor where a thin young girl is sleeping.

"Éponine!"

He shook the little girl roughly to wake her. The girl groaned in her sleep and pulled a thin sheet of cloth over her frail, bony body in a piteous attempt to keep warm. This irritated the man and pulled the cloth from the girl and grabbed her by her arms, shaking her.

"Wake up you wretched girl and get ready for work!"

The girl, Éponine immediately opened her eyes even though all she wanted to do was sleep. Her father gave her and her younger sister, Azelma, a good beating last night for not earning the expected amount of francs. The urge to sleep away the exhaustion was strong but her fear of her father and his temper was much stronger.

Éponine's eyes were slowly filling with tears as her father continued to shake her, shouting threats in her face, with a lovely bonus of alcohol and morning breath combination being spewed by his mouth. At the corner of her peripheral vision, she saw Azelma stirring in her sleep. The noise must have awakened her and now, she is starting to sit up and looked around the room. Éponine gave Azelma a look that made the young girl scamper outside. She might have been a spoilt little brat once, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't care for her little sister and have her be involved in her father's fits.

"What is going on?" said another voice.

Light footfalls were heard and soon, a woman in her mid-30's was standing by the doorway with Azelma and a little boy who was about 4 and had dirty blond hair, in tow.

"This little brat 'ere is being lazy!" Monsieur Thénardier spat. "Just 'coz she was beaten yesterday…." He then turned to Éponine and grabbed her arm. Eponine yelped in pain. "Thought you could act all sore, don't you? Don't you, ya li'l ingrate?! You ain't foolin' me! No, mademoiselle, you ain't gonna turn your waterworks on me. And, mark my words, if you 'ave nothing more than 50 francs to give me at the end of this day, you will not have a single crumb of bread and you shall be freezing in the alleyways tonight! Ya understand?"

Éponine nodded at her father and looked at Mme. Thénardier for help. She was careful not to spill her tears, for doing so would only irritate her father more. She had learned that the hard way.

But it seems like her father didn't understand the nod, or was just too inebriated to see or understand anything. He grabbed her arm roughly again and shook her. "Ya understand, ya li'l wench?! Ya l'il _merde de baise!"_

"That's my daughter you're pelting your profanities at!"Mme. Thénardier said sharply. "Let go of her. I shall handle my daughter as I see fit!"

Monsieur Thénardier glared at his wife, but loosened his hold on poor Éponine's arm. The little boy, Gavroche, was clutching his Maman's skirt, his eyes watering at the display of his father's violence. Azelma herself was rooted to her spot, afraid and barely breathing, as if her father's temper would turn on her is she so much made a move.

"What ya wai'in for?" Mme. Thénardier snapped. "Go on, get!"

With one last glower at Éponine, Monsieur Thénardier stumbled out of the room, muttering obscenities under his breath.

When her father finally left, Éponine let some of her tears fall. Her father was not that violent. In fact, she was her father's daughter. She was his favorite. When did things take a turn for the worse?

Her internal musings were halted when her Maman and her two younger siblings approached her.

"A-are you alrigh', 'Ponine?" Azelma asked, her voice squeaky and it seemed as though she was about to cry. "Papa didn't hurt you bad, did 'e?"

Éponine only shook her head in response. Mme. Thénardier knelt in front of her daughter and smoothed her hair. "There, there, _mon chérie_. Don't cry, alrigh'? Your papa is being his usual idiotic self," she then stood up and said, "There's a chunk of bread waiting for you, and you best head off to do your work. Your papa is in a foul mood and we don't want what occurred this morning to happen again, do we?"

"No, Maman," Éponine replied softly, holding back tears. Mme. Thénardier then walked out of the room with Azelma and little Gavroche. She turned to shoot a pitying glance upon her eldest daughter before slipping out the door.

* * *

Leandre Enjolras was bundled up nicely and protected from the harsh and biting November gale. He decided to accompany his parents to see a certain dressmaker who was his mother's favorite. Leandre sighed as they went out of the shop.

_Dieu Merci! _Finally, that was done! He never wanted to go to the dress shop in the first place.

You see, Leandre was a family boy. He was the apple of his parents' eyes. It was on him that they pinned their hopes and dreams of expanding their wealth. And Leandre never disappointed them. He was the perfect son. To him, his parents were always right. They could do no wrong in his eyes.

They started walking and passed by an alley. Leandre saw a young girl who was shivering in the sidewalk. His heart went out to her. She was so young. She looked about 9 years old, but she was frail and filthy. The girl started to walk towards them.

* * *

So, she's been reduced to begging. While that stupid little lark –what's her name? Colette? –no, Cosette. Yes, Cosette must be living high on the hog with that old Monsieur that bought her the doll.

Even as a young child, Éponine had a huge amount of pride. That was the result of being treated like a princess, always getting your way since the day you were born. And the fact that Cosette was living the life she once had while she was reduced to a filthy, shivering, starving, abused, gamine begging for francs and scraps was a huge blow to her pride.

Their inn started to lose its popularity two months after that old coot took Cosette away from them. They started to loan money. And the amount got bigger and bigger while their business got slower and slower until they were bankrupt. Their debts were far more bigger than they had anticipated, what with the added interest rates, plus the taxes and their everyday needs. Their financial dilemma reached to the point where they had to sell all their furniture and finally the inn itself, to pay off their debts. But however, the money still wasn't enough to pay all. So, her parents decided to flee Montfermeil and head to Paris to start a new life there.

And with new life, that meant thievery, deceit, scams, pillage, and crime. From her father's favorite daughter, she became her father's favorite punching bag. She became the subject of her father's physical and verbal abuses and his frustrations.

The one thing that gave Éponine comfort, was that, maybe, Cosette was being treated as a maid by that old Monsieur. Yes, that gave her so much comfort. If she was miserable, then Cosette must be miserable. She knew that she was horrible to the poor girl, but, that was how she was raised and that was how her mother and father treated Cosette, so that's how she should treat the lark, right?

Another thing that gave comfort to young Éponine was the hope of rising up from these stinking urinals of the Parisian slums someday. She dreamed of a better life and hopefully, the time that this dream will come true will be soon.

Her musings were cut short when she saw a well-dressed bourgeois family strolling by. She drew her thin shawl around her frail shoulders and slowly approached the family. She didn't bother to check herself or to make her appearance look pitiable because she already looked pathetic and filthy anyways. She noticed that the older man looked snooty with his intimidating blue-grey eyes, almost-pale blond hair tossed and neatly combed and his regal nose stuck in the air. The woman was pretty and looked quite young with pale blue eyes and curly chestnut blonde locks. She looked elegant yet aloof and seemed hostile. The boy walking alongside them, however, didn't look as snobbish as his parents. The boy looked about 15, with curly golden-blond hair and pale blue eyes. His stance, although didn't scream snobbish, still projected an aura of inapproachability. He looked like one of those statues she used to see in his father's books back at Montfermeil, and Éponine can't help admiring him for just a second. They were good-looking people, yet the aura they bear seemed to make Éponine hesitate to ask them for alms.

But what would she choose? Let her apprehension rule through or risk receiving the sharp end of her father's wrath?

Éponine cringed at the thought of her father beating her again, so she approached the family slowly.

The moment she got close to them, the woman looked down at her like she was some flea on her cat's fur. Éponine chose to ignore the insulting expression and held her open palm out. "Bonjour, Madame, Monsieur," she said, not forgetting her manners. From the corner of her eye, she saw the young boy look at her with curiosity. "Can you spare a sou, sir? I have been in the streets for three days now and my family expects me to bring food on our table."

That's what her father taught her. The sob tale, as he called it. It usually works on generous and merciful people and she tried this trick on them, hoping that they are nicer than they looked.

The woman stared at her for a second or two before looking away and stuck her nose in the air again. "We don't have anything to give you," the older man said, looking ahead and continue walking.

Éponine sighed and followed them. She had to risk it, unless she wanted bruises all over her body again. "Please, Monsieur," she begged. "Just a sou, sir. Have mercy." She reached out to tug the waistcoat of the man, lightly. Wrong move. The man looked at her sharply and then his eyes moved to the filthy hand that was holding the fabric of his coat. The look of disgust and rage was evident in his eyes. Éponine averted her eyes from the man's glare. She cringed at the look the man gave her. Without any warning, he pulled Éponine's hand away from his coat and backhanded her across the face. Éponine reeled back from the force of the blow, her hand instinctively held the cheek that received the hit. The man still wasn't satisfied with this and shoved her a little too roughly to the edge of the sidewalk.

"_Merde!" _the man cursed. "Stupid, filthy little wench! You should know better than to put your filthy hands on someone's clothing!" With that, he and his family walked away.

Éponine sat silently on the sidewalk, nursing her aching cheek. She might have been rejected by those bourgeois whom she begged for alms, but she was never treated like this. Bitter tears of shame spilled down her cheeks. But no…

Éponine Thénardier never cried in front of an audience. She sniffed and wiped her cheeks, taking extra care to be careful with her right one, considering the skin was tender and bruising.

She was about to stand up when she saw the son of that offensive Monsieur. She looked at him confusedly then decided to glare at him, as if challenging him to hit her, just like his father did.

But his actions surprised her.

He held out his handkerchief to her. "Mademoiselle…"

* * *

Leandre saw the young gamine reel backwards as his father backhanded her across the face. He then watched, horrified as Monsieur Enjolras Sr. shoved the girl to the sidewalk and cursed at her.

His father patted his waistcoat disgustedly and walked away from the whimpering girl. They began to walk the streets again as if nothing happened.

If his father thought that nothing has changed, well, Leandre felt otherwise. His parents' actions surprised him. All his life, he believed that they were good and all the things they did and they do were right. But, what was it that happened just now?

_That wasn't right! _Leandre thought. He had been sheltered and holed up inside their estate and the schoolhouse. He read about the state of their country in books and periodicals. He thought that the oppression of the French masses ended after the Reign of Terror. Was this how the outside world was like? Was this how the masses were treated by the bourgeois?

Leandre suddenly saw his parents in a new light –a dim light, that is. From the high pedestal that he put them on, they were now on the bottom rung of the ladder of his respect. Before he could stop himself, he turned to his father and asked, "Father, why did you do it?"

"People like that wench are not worth my time," his father replied coolly. "What I did was right. They should know their place in this world. And look at her appearance! She is filthy and grimy! And she should be treated as such."

"But, Father, it's not their fault that they have such lifestyles!" he reasoned. "She is striving to live to, Father. She is trying to survive in this world, too. Maybe… Maybe, they are not as fortunate as us to have a comfortable life, but, we should treat them as our equals! They should not be treated differently just because they are street people."

"Come now, Leandre," his mother interjected. "Enough about this nonsense."

"But, mother," Leandre said, "The government should have noticed this sooner. How can they turn a blind eye to this? They live in luxury, we live in comfort while the people around us are suffering. How can they not give their attention to—"

"THAT'S ENOUGH, LEANDRE!" his father roared. "Do you want to be guillotined? Do you want to be arrested for treason?! These people around us are nothing but filthy low-lying, rats that deserve neither yours nor the government's concern! I don't want to hear about or anything related to this matter, understood?"

Leandre just kept quiet and glared at his father.

"Don't look at me like that, young man!" his father scolded. "Do you understand?"

Leandre frowned at his father. Yes. He did understand what his father is trying to say. And that is something he did not wish to understand. His father, the bourgeois and the government are nothing but harsh, cold-hearted people who never cared for others or for the country. And he is not proud to be born in their world and live among them. He does not want to be like them.

He stared at his father coldly and replied, "Clairement, mon pére."

He then started to turn back. He wanted to help change this world that they live in. And he is going to start now. "Excusez moi."

"Leandre!" his father yelled. "Leandre, where are you going?!"

Leandre ignored his father and kept on walking towards the gamine. He noticed that she was wiping her cheeks. It was evident that she was crying. He slowly approached her as she showed signs of standing up and took out his handkerchief. The little girl looked up at him and looked confused. She then glared at him. He smiled inwardly, amused.

He offered his handkerchief and said. "Mademoiselle…"

Her glare softened and the confusion in her eyes was back. She gazed at him and then back at the handkerchief and then back again. "Take it," Enjolras smiled slightly.

Éponine looked at him warily. He sighed and said. "I apologize for my parents' behavior. Je suis vraiment désolé, Mademoiselle. But I assure you, I am not like them. Here, just take this." He then thrust the handkerchief forward. Éponine looked at the handkerchief again and slowly reached her hand to take it. She then looked at him as he reache into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a five francs. He handed it to her and she took it also. She then smiled wanly, but gratefully at him. "Merci bien, Monsieur. You are very kind."

"De rien, Mademoiselle," he replied.

The little girl blushed. "Please, sir," she said bashfully, standing up to her full height. Leandre stood up from his bent position too. "I am hardly one."

"You are every bit a Mademoiselle," he said before bowing his head and straightened his cravat. He then started to walk away. "Au revoir, Mademoiselle."

Little Éponine smiled at him. When he was at a good distance, she shouted, "Monsieur!"

Leandre turned his head towards her.

"How about your handkerchief?" Éponine continued. "How can I return it to you?"

Leandre smiled slightly. "Keep it," he said. "Don't worry, Mademoiselle. I have lots to spare." And with that, he walked away.

Éponine looked at the handkerchief and shouted again, "MERCI, MONSIEUR!"

Even though she knew he didn't hear her, she didn't care. It just felt right to say it again. At least, now she knew that there are still people in this world that are not cruel and harsh and cold, but rather kind and generous. She smiled again, remembering the way he called her "Mademoiselle". Her father used to call her that when they were at Montfermeil. But when they moved to Paris, he stopped calling her that name and started calling her derogatory names instead. Of course, Éponine had eyes. She was completely aware of how handsome the boy was. At least that pretty face of his was paired with a kind heart. She felt giddy all of a sudden. Was this how it felt? Was this what Maman called "fancying someone"? How can you fancy someone when you don't even know his name? Ah, well.

Éponine smiled and shrugged. Pocketing the francs the bourgeois boy gave her, she walked down the alleys. She would always remember that kind boy who helped her and brought a smile to her face. Although she would not recall all his facial features years later, she would always remember his kindness and his pale blue eyes.

Leandre lagged behind his parents, lost in thought. His brain was swirling with a million things. That poor gamine on the street, the bourgeois' oppression of the masses, the government's obliviousness to the country's current state.

_Someday, I will serve this country, _Leandre thought. _Oppression and discrimination will be no more. No more social classes, no more hunger, no more poverty. No one would be treated unfairly. There will be justice. There will be equality and liberty. I will fight. I will make life better for everyone. I will make a new and better France. I will free France from oppression. Vive la République! Vive la France!_

And at that moment, a revolutionist was born.

* * *

**A/N: So here it is guys...The newest addition to my addictions...This is my first Les Mis fanfic starring my beloved ship, Enjonine! Please review and tell me what you think...Thank you guys! Watch out for the next Chap of A Dark Destiny...**

**Mwahugz... **


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